Where the Coin Lands
by Janette Bennington
Summary: A one-shot AU from season 8. What happened after the bells rang in Daenerys' mind and the events afterwards. It's short, and honestly inspired from a thread on Reddit that agrees a lot of characters deserved better, especially Dany. I may come back and make a full series of this one day. Contains mentions of character death, violence, and strong language.


Even amidst the chaos, Daenerys never realized how loud the sound of a bell's ring would be. It started slow, one jarring clang followed by its twin. Then with growing speed, the sound of the bell reverberated through Kings Landing, piercing the silence and drowning out the sound of flames. The sound of surrender blanketed the filthy city below. Beneath her, Drogon shifted, his neck twisting from side to side as he breathed heavily. Her dragon was excited, still ready for more, still reacting to her own building emotions.

Dany could hear nothing but the bells. Her eyes lost sight of her surrounding as she looked about. She saw instead the faces of those she had lost. Drogo was first, his eyes clear and cunning, so very much unlike the dull lifeless stare she saw when she smothered him to save him from life as a husk of a man. He believed their son would rule the world. And he died for his stupidity, but he loved her and believed in her nonetheless. It was the first time a man believed she could be anything more than just a hole to fuck and bear children. Then came Ser Barristan slain in Mereen who spoke fondly of her brother Rhaegar and showed unwavering loyalty to her until his dying breath in the streets. Lady Olenna, her tongue sharp and her shrewd wit reminding Daenerys of what she was. _Be a dragon_, she urged. To be strong and do not let her kindness be her weakness. She did not have the pleasure of knowing the Lady of High Garden very long, but her impact on Daenerys was not lost. Without her, traitors would still be allowed to roam free and this battle would have been different. Jorah's face was next, his lips forming the oft spoken title she had taken on when she first met him at her wedding- _Khaleesi._ His image flickered from the healthy father figure she had known to that of the way she saw him on his pyre. They did their best to hide the wounds given to him by the monsters of the ice, but she knew what laid beneath his ruined clothes. She remembered his agonized breaths and how he believed in her vision, in her as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

There were not only kind faces that Daenerys saw. She saw the blood witch Mirri Maz Duur, her triumphant smirk as she reveled in the fact that Daenerys would never achieve that which she had wished. She saw Xaro Xhoan Daxos, still lying to her as sweet words of alliance fell from his lips while he plotted to take her dragons and use them as slaves to award more power and wealth to himself. She saw Khal Moro and the High Priestess of the Dosh Khaleen. Khal Moro's threat to let all the Khals rape her and the Priestess still insisting that she was a delusional widow and nothing more were taken from them in this image though the sentiment remained in their eyes. Viserys, too, was there. His bratty disposition turned more murderous at the thought that she would take the throne, that _she_ could do what he could not. His ever looming threat of waking the dragon expressed in the way he disdainfully regarded her and flexed his hands like he oft would before he would beat her or touch her. She looked at them all and was tempted to laugh. Laugh and weep at what fools they had been to cross her, to doubt her, to think she was never the true heir, the true blood of the dragon. She turned her head to the side.

Then there was Missandei. Kind, soft spoken Missandei who possessed an inner strength not even she fully knew. Daenerys remembered when they had met, Missandei kept her eyes lowered when spoken to and served only to translate for her master. Daenerys also remembered how Missandei reacted when she spoke of her plans, of how she would take her to war and she may face death. _Valar Morghulis_, Missandei of Naath had told her simply, as if death were something one should not bother with as it was inevitable, especially in the face of war. And what had Daenerys told her? _Yes, all men must die. But we are not men._ She had freed Missandei, taken that dreaded collar from her throat and promised her that when all was done, Missandei would live in a better world. Acrid bile threatened to fill her mouth as she remembered Missandei's final moments. In chains once more, her closest companion, the sister she had always dreamt of, spoke one word before her head was cleaved and her body was allowed to unceremoniously fall before Daenerys and her army. Viserys, molten gold dripping from his hair now whispered to her, "Now you've woke the dragon." Rage filled her, burned her and Missandei's final word filled her mind, drowned out the sound of the bells so she only heard one thing.

As if reading his mother's mind, Drogon took to the air, his massive wings beating hard so he could achieve loft and she shouted then, "_Dracarys!"_

Sansa sat among those gathered, her face displaying the ever present apathetic look she had come to dawn since her time back in Winterfell as Lady Stark rather than Lady Bolton. She had come to find that despite the winter, Kings Landing was still too warm for her taste. It certainly did not help that she sat out in the open air along with the other nobles of the kingdoms. She felt the taste of _Lady _Stark burn her fiercely. The North, in her mind, had done far more than its duty to the Seven Kingdoms, and the Crown- every time some new head wore it. She was tired of being bossed around by those who wouldn't have even given so much as a thought if the North had perished under the siege of the Night King. She had learned to play the game and she far exceeded her teachers. Now it was time to negotiate her victory. _She_ would see herself queen of an independent North, yet. It was so close, she could taste it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tyrion asked, his hands bound together as he looked at those gathered. He met the gazes of every Lord and Lady sitting before him before his eyes came to the center figure.

Daenerys sat tall, the crown of her father upon her braided locks as she looked down at Tyrion. She was clothed in the red and black attire she wore when she had taken Kings Landing days before. Her face seemed to lack color more than usual, making the dragon queen appear far more like a queen of ice than flame. And yet the fire burned so brightly within her that all knew there would be no backing down. Daenerys stayed true to her word; she took all that was rightfully hers with fire and blood. Jon sat beside her, his face pensive but his resolve set. He looked on at Tyrion, pain and duty warring in his features. Daenerys spoke, "I must. Honor demands this."

She looked at her former hand and spoke, "You stand accused of treason against your queen and people. You deliberately sought any means to undermine me in favor of your own gain. Your actions cost the lives of many, a crime that no penance is too great to undertake. How do you answer these charges… Lady Stark?" Daenerys turned her gaze slowly to see Sansa take in a quick breath, choking for a moment before she began to sputter.

"I beg your pardon? Your grace, I lent the Winterfell army and kept the Unsullied _and_ the Dothraki fed! I even made sure your dragons did not go without while I worried if they would eat my people!" Sansa argued, outraged. She looked to Jon then, "You're the bloody King! Can't you stop this? This is ludicrous, madness even. The North, by all accounts, was a free kingdom before the Dragon Queen came and yet we are being bullied back into the political nonsense of other kingdoms. My people have suffered enough under Targaryen rule. My grandfather and uncle _burned_ under _her _father's orders! Your family, Jon! Or do you simply go by Aegon now?" Sansa spat at him.

"Daenerys is not her father or her brother. She proved that when she came to the aid of the North to defend its people from certain death. She pledged her armies and her dragons and lost much. The entire time you schemed behind her back and did your very best to ensure what was best for you, Sansa." Jon replied, his temper starting to flare as he was put on the spot by Sansa. Not that she hadn't always done that when they were growing up. She would pin as much as she could on him to save her own hide when she was in trouble and ignored him when he couldn't be much use to her.

"She is reckless and mad-" Sansa began to argue.

"And you threw petty remarks about madness and her looks when you weren't getting your way!" Jon snapped, frustrated. "I have done much for you, saved you many a time when I could, but this is bigger than that. You have cost many their lives through this squabbling of yours!"

"I wanted a free North! You used to be King of the North before you bent the knee for a pretty face! The North is tired of fighting for a King or a Queen that doesn't care about it. The North deserves to be independent-"

"With you queen, you mean," Yara interrupted, her comely features staring at the petulant Lady Stark. "As it seems to me, and likely the rest of us gathered, that has always been your main goal. Why, didn't you sell out your own father when you thought you weren't going to be Joffrey's queen?" There were a couple of murmurs then.

"That's not fair. You don't know what it was like to be among them," Sansa replied darkly.

"And wasn't it you that killed Petyr Baelish only when it served to make you look more powerful? If a man orchestrated my father's death, I'd kill him when I had the first chance. And you had plenty of those, didn't you? But instead you manipulated and thought about killing your own sister as she could possibly be a threat. Good thing you didn't, I suppose, seeing as how she killed the fucking Night King while you hid in the crypts and listened to your people die. No, you are the type to use people as tools to get what you want before you throw them away. You think yourself more clever than Petyr Baelish, don't you? You're not even half as good as he was, that much is obvious. "

Daenerys held up her hand, "Enough. What's more is that you intentionally broke a vow sworn before your sacred Weirwood tree, sworn before your gods. You were given information of Jon's true heritage and sworn to not reveal it to anyone. Instead, you went directly to Tyrion, planting the idea of treason within my own Hand. Your actions killed Varys, Sansa Stark, and are, in part, why he stands before us bound. You are not entirely to blame as Varys was always a self-serving creature, but without your loose lips, Varys would have never known and would not be put to death for my attempted murder and treason. Your refusal to aid me has led to deaths of your own people and people of Kings Landing."

"I gave you my exhausted men!"

"But you openly disobeyed me and spoke to me with hostility, much like you are doing now amongst this council. You planted as much dissent and hostility among your people regarding me as you could. Simply because my name was not that of Stark. I will not have this any longer." Daenerys stood then and on cue, Grey Worm and another Unsullied brought her to stand in the dirt amongst the pit, Drogon rumbling behind her. Sansa began to fight against them, cursing and screaming as she did. Even Arya stood stoically though it was clear that like Jon, she felt pain to see what was to come of their sister. Bran, for his part, had no clear emotion as usual.

"Jon! Arya!" Sansa screamed at them as she was pushed to her knees in the dirt. "Do something! Bran! Don't let this happen!" For a moment she was back before Cersei, a scared girl, fighting for her life. But this time it would seem there was no one to save her. Not even Tyrion, for his part, opened his mouth. Perhaps his fate would be the same? She began to sob brokenly, a thing she swore to herself no one would ever see from her again.

"It was always meant to happen," Bran replied simply. He listened in bored silence as his sister continued to scream.

"I deserved to be queen!" Sansa shouted, tears falling from her eyes as she angrily regarded those gathered. "After all that I had suffered, I deserve more than this!"

Daenerys looked to those gathered before she spoke, "I, Daenerys Stormborn of the house Targaryen, the First of My Name, The Unburnt, Queen of Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, sentence you to die. Do you have any last words?"

"You're all monsters! This is tyranny and nothing will ever change! She will be exactly like her father, burning a Stark to instill fear in us all!" Sansa screamed, her sobbing echoing now.

Daenerys looked at Sansa then. She wasn't there when Dany decided how her coin would land that day.

She combined the wisdom of Ser Barristan and Lady Olenna. She took Missandei's gentle nature and last word to heart. She proved to those around her that she meant what she said by breaking the wheel by destroying the iron throne. With fire from both Drogon and her own spirit, and blood with Jon, her husband to be and consort.

_Daenerys took Cersei and freed the inhabitants of Kings Landing. Flying Drogon over the city, she let Cersei know she was coming. Flames lit the sky high above the city, scorching the air. Drogon carried her right to the tower, smashing through it and letting out a mighty roar to all. Stones crumbled as she sat atop her dragon, most guards fleeing at the sight of the beast. Then she saw Cersei, flanked by her maester advisor and her monstrous guard. A man with a badly burnt face managed to burst into the ruined room, dodging stones as he locked eyes on the undead Mountain. The Hound was there to fulfill his quest for revenge. Now was the time to do the same for herself. _

_She let the two men fight as Drogon walked forward, cornering Cersei and the sniveling man beside her, backing them away from the stairs and towards the throne. "You were given the chance to surrender before it came to this."_

"_The bells are ringing! Queen Cersei has surrendered!" Pycell argued, his voice high with the strain of fear. _

"_It's not good enough for her," Cersei told him. "Afterall, tales of Targaryen's madness are so well known that the gods flip a coin to see if a Targaryen is mad. And this one is. Like her father." She sneered up at Daenerys, calmly sipping her wine though she knew there would be no escape this time. Cersei Lannister would never die a simpering fool. She would hold onto her dignity to the very end._

"_No, I am not my father. I am not the Mad Queen who burns her people to rule over ashes. You've already held that title, Cersei. And for the slaughter of innocents, you will pay." Drogon moved his head closer to them as he prepared to follow through the command. That day, Daenerys killed only those she had to, sought to keep the death as low as she could while freeing the people. She watched as Cersei, in a last act of derision, sat upon the throne. Daenerys had always thought that 1000 swords would be bigger, would be more intimidating. But as she saw it, she realized too many lives were lost to the quest for the over glorified chair. For the first time, Daenerys saw it for what it truly was- a symbol of rule enforced with fear. She knew what had to be done then. To break the wheel, the Iron Throne had to be no more. Cersei Lannister and those like her had to be no more. Daenerys executed not only the monster Cersei had become, but the monster she had almost became as well with her._

But to Sansa Stark she was, and would always be, a monster. She was a dragon. And it was time to be a dragon.

_With 'Fire and Blood' I will protect all that is mine, _Daenerys promised, her hand resting on her stomach.

"Dracarys."


End file.
